


Assistance

by mako_lies (wingeddserpent)



Series: The Ruin [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Canon, Regis Doing His Best, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 10:00:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13211394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingeddserpent/pseuds/mako_lies
Summary: It's not "Bring Your Child To Work Day," but who is going to rebuke the grieving King?





	Assistance

Two weeks is what Regis permits himself and likely that is too indulgent. In their chambers, he cares for Noctis.

Noctis, who at six months old, cannot understand that his mother is never coming back. It seems to Regis that each generation of Kings learns of Death earlier. But it is a cynical and blank thought, and one that passes as quickly as all his thoughts these days do.

Regis grants himself two weeks of private mourning to care for his son and himself. It must suffice.

 +

Two weeks and one day after Aulea’s passing, King Regis emerges from the privacy of his grief. When he leaves Noctis to the newly-hired nursemaid, his son wails—

And is still wailing with splintered voice when Regis returns some two hours later. Regis struggles to keep crushing disapproval from his countenance. “Has he wept all this time?”

Sage flinches, moments from weeping herself. “Your Majesty, I’m so sorry. I’ve tried everything.”

Astrals. His temples throb and the Ring weighs heavy, sipping unending at what sorrow and exhaustion have not already taken. What he would give—to take it off long enough to recover his strength…

No. What a selfish thought.

Regis stores away the disgust for himself, lest Sage think it directed at her. “He is young,” he murmurs, “And this unknowable change has come suddenly. Pray, be gentle with him. But do not blame yourself. Perhaps it is simply that he must cry.”

Sage nods and offers him his whimpering child. Noctis’s hair smells so soft when Regis presses his lips to the downy strands. “Hush now, dear one. Here I am,” he rumbles and rocks.

The added weight makes his joints creak—

So so tired. He staggers for the bed. “Thank you, Sage.” Regis dismisses her.

She hesitates, but leaves as directed. “I know,” he says to Noctis, allowing his son to cry into his shoulder. “I know. I find myself looking for her too. Waiting for her.” His throat threatens to close.

By some miracle, Noctis quiets. Perhaps he is too tired to carry on. Oh, but can Regis relate.

 +

The next day, Regis leaves and returns to his son’s tears. Sage appears even more distraught, mouth pinched. 

She is rocking the boy as Regis enters and crooning helplessly. Were Regis able to ache more than he already does, he’d ache fiercely for her. Poor woman. Newly hired, and expected to care for the grieving prince. But she was the best option as she is skilled in psychology and fighting both. Aulea chose her, as it was nearing the end, and Regis still trusts her with everything. “Thank you, Sage,” he says and gathers his son into his arms.

Noctis quiets. His tiny hands cling to the fabric of Regis’s collar. “Me too, dear one. I missed you, too.”

+ 

A week after that, King Regis returns once more to his screaming son. His son’s voice is scraped raw these days from the fierceness of his emotion. If Regis were permitted to yell with him, he absolutely would.

Every meeting he’s attended this week has yielded the same result. His son crying until Regis returns. Sage settles Noctis into Regis’s arms , and then lets herself out even as he thanks her. With his son in hand, Regis limps to the bed despite his back and knees complaining.

This cannot continue, he decides, as Noctis’s cries soften to whimpers. But he cannot hide here in the privacy of their chambers. With the situation in the Outlands as it is—no. He must stay in the public eye. His people need him as they face uncertainty, but this is intolerable.

“It’s all right, Noctis. I hear you. I hear what you’re saying. I swear to you that I shall not leave you.”

 +

_“Reg~! Don’t put the diaper bag in the Armiger!” Aulea had laughed, pulling on his ear until he was eye level with her. “I can’t get it out when you do that, you crazy man!”_

 

Regis stashes the diaper bag in the Armiger, his wife’s ghost laughing and chastising in his ear all the while. He wraps the stretchy, soft blue sling around and around himself. “Here you are. Listening to these old nobles drone on about trade treaties should put you right to sleep, if you’re anything like your father.” 

A wide yawn is Noctis’s only response to being fitted into the sling. He clutches his cactuar doll as he snuggles up against Regis’s chest. Six months old, and still he prefers sleep over all other activity.

Together, they go to work.

As ever, Clarus waits for Regis in the hallway outside the Council Chamber. He merely blinks, which is the most surprise Clarus will permit himself show. His voice is soft as it has been since Aulea took ill when he says, “Regis… You’re certain?”

“I’m a father, Clarus. My son needs me now.” Regis combs through his son’s unruly hair.

“I understand,” Clarus begins. Then he pauses, to consider his words carefully, so carefully, that he must be deciding how to best spare Regis’s feelings. “But surely he can stand to part with you for a two-hour meeting.”

“He needs me. I know that I am King, Clarus. I cannot lead by standing still in my grief,” Regis levels his oldest friend with an appraising look, wishing to reach out and not to reach out all at once. He could lean on Clarus, of course, but Clarus is already attending to most of the matters Regis should be. “Yet, my duty as King is to protect those under my charge. To protect my family. This includes, but is not limited to, my son. The Council can suffer a few interruptions so that I may attend my son. No one shall starve in the meantime.”

It occurs to him that he is shaking only when Clarus puts steadying hands on his shoulders. Clarus squeezes warmth into him. “Yes. You’re right. Perhaps I reacted too quickly. I am simply concerned because I know you feel strongly when and how Noctis should be introduced to the work of Kings.”

Regis relaxes beneath Clarus’s touch and nearly sags into the comfort like a tree that’s been blown into another, stronger tree. His friend, always trying to protect him, even from himself. Regis must be more gracious. “Thank you. I agree. For now, however, he is too young to understand. I doubt it will do him any harm… In the future, please continue to look out for him. That I do not place too much responsibility on my son.”

“I won’t let you become your father, Regis.”

His father had Regis attend general meetings and functions at ten, and the war council starting at thirteen. Regis knows where Clarus’s concern lay, but the criticism of his father sets Regis’s teeth on edge and makes the Ring pulse. “Thank you,” he says, throat thick as though he is ill, and the Ring is hot and heavy upon his finger. As it is whenever Regis is irreverent or ungrateful for its power. For his bloodright, and the bloodright he has now passed to his son. “Come. I’m anxious to see the stunned faces of the Council.”

The room falls silent as a royal tomb the moment Regis, Clarus, and Noctis sweep in with all the regality allotted to the Lucis line. Noctis sleeps soundly against Regis’s chest. The Council stares.

Laws about who can and cannot attend the meeting flash obviously through their minds. But it is permitted to bring children younger than two years. Unusual, but permitted. Largely to assist breastfeeding mothers, but there is no gender restriction.

And who here would tell the King how and when to grieve? Few of the Caelum line have been single parents to children so young. And it is not typically the Ruler who outlives their spouse.

No one knows what the protocol is, least of all Regis himself.

Regis seats himself at the table. “Forgive my tardiness. Shall we begin?”

 +

The third time Noctis accompanies Regis to a meeting, Samuel, who is one of the men tasked with overseeing trade, approaches him. “Your Majesty, your son is very well behaved. Can he truly sleep through anything?”

Noctis is sprawled on a blanket on the floor with what must be fifty assorted toys. As many as Regis could stuff into the Armiger. He babbles at himself as he squeezes a squeaky toy. “I haven’t tested it yet.” Regis shifts in his seat. It hadn’t been a long meeting, but certainly a dull one. “But it seems as though he can sleep through Leviathan’s Awakening. I’m lucky, or it would be impossible to bring him here.”

It’s already difficult enough when Regis must stop the meeting to feed Noctis, or change him, or rock him, or the like. If Noctis cried often… It might have been impossible to bring Noctis with him.

“You are very lucky. How long will continue to bring him, Your Majesty?” Samuel asks, so casually. Regis cannot sense any veiled annoyance in him, but it is still an indelicate question.

“Likely until he can walk. After that, it will be too difficult for me to divide my attention.” It will be a sad day, indeed, even with the gladness of Noctis learning to walk.

Feeding Noctis during breaks, having him cradled close as he sleeps… it’s been lovely and it serves as a poignant reminder of what Regis is striving for. What his purpose is. Not that he has ever forgotten, but it is nice to have clarity of purpose even as the sorrow flows through his veins, even as the Ring drains and drains without care. With Noctis here to guide him—it’s as though he can finally see a future. A future where Noctis can be a King in peace. Where he will not have to sacrifice himself for the Wall.

Maybe there can finally be an end to all this War… If Regis and Lucis but take the right steps now, perhaps peace is the future Noctis can inherit.

“I’ll keep him with me as long as I can.”

+ 

When Noctis is a little over a year old, he begins walking, and it comes time for Regis to stop bringing him to meetings altogether. That night, Regis holds Noctis and rocks him for hours. “You’ve been staying with Sage most days anyway. It shall be all right, but oh, I will miss these days.”

+ 

Noctis is thirteen when he catches his father’s sleeve as Regis stands from their lunch. “Dad…”

Regis puts a hand on his son’s head. “I’m sorry. I must attend this council meeting.”

Reports about commerce and infrastructure in the Outlands are always _riveting,_ especially given that most of the meetings result in half the Council digging their heels in and merely repeating over and over that the Niflheim Influence in the Outlands is too great and Something must be done. As if anyone in the room had forgotten this. If they then offered suggestion that would not merely result in more casualties, then perhaps they could get somewhere. 

“Could…” Noctis hesitates, gaze sliding away. “Could I come with?”

Oh, Astrals. But he is still so young and he has not yet healed fully. Regis’s initial reaction is to refuse, if only to spare his son. Yet Noctis has not been sleeping due to nightmares since the fall of Fenestala Manor. Perhaps this is him reaching out for help? For reassurance? Even as Regis wishes to spare Noctis for as long as possible, he cannot deny his son anything.

Especially when his son looks up at him with such hopeful eyes.

Regis chuckles. “You know… You used to help me at meetings when you were a baby, too. I suppose you can attend, if you truly wish it. Just—“

Noctis beams as though the sun is pouring out of him. “I won’t tell anyone.” He uses the table to help himself stand. Takes a breath, and then takes a step on his fawn legs. Regis smiles. Noctis wobbles, and Regis reaches for him. “I can do it…” says Noctis.

“I know. But help an old man to his meeting?”

With a smile, Noctis takes the offered hand. He asks, as they pick their way through the hallways with too much care, “Did I really come with you?”

“Of course,” Regis slows his gait more, and not simply for his son. “Once you learned how to walk, I couldn’t take you anymore. You wanted to explore and you got into everything. But before that, you came with me almost every day. You slept through all of my meetings.”

Noctis squeezes his hand. “Well, when I’m King, you can sleep at all of my meetings. But now you can teach me, so someday I can do a good job, like you. And we can always help each other!”

 

It’s such a beautiful hope. One that Regis wants more than anything He clutches his son tight for as long as he can. “I’d like that very much, Noctis,” he says, and they sweep into the Council Chamber, together.

**Author's Note:**

> ...if I could draw, I would have just drawn Regis with Noctis in a baby sling at a Council Meeting. Because I can't draw... here we are :D I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
